In 2019, we are telling the story of a romance over the course of 9 months and 13 chapters. Each chapter will feature some combination of art, ice cream, cocktails, baked goods, and music. Each participant has been tasked with creating an element of the story inspired by the corresponding chapter. Thank you for checking out chapter two. Click here for chapter one. The participants this month are: @mollyatryzek_artist, @joshlafayette, @theravenousjackie, @monsterteaparty, @lilbotany, @guhregg, @keithcbrooks, @skyerickson, @ChristopherBolte, @garethchughes

She’d come in to the shop in the afternoon for coffee usually, sometimes tea. There were several places she could go, but she’d made Spilt Milk Creamery her regular. It wasn’t the closest or the best coffee, but it was the third closest, and better than others. Plus, in the winter, there was NEVER a line. It was cozy and comfortable and it became her regular. Double plus, if she felt like it, she could get an ice cream with her afternoon coffee and none of the other places offered that.

After a couple weeks of stopping by Spilt Milk Creamery, she met Nick, one of the ice cream makers and chatted a moment about one of the flavors she’d tried the week before. He wasn’t there the next day, but he was the day after, and then it seemed he was always the one making her coffee. He was pleasant and funny and she got the feeling he was, on occasion, giving tasks to the staff so he could be at the counter when she came in. Nick had told her that anyone who made ice cream at Spilt Milk had to be trained on the counter first, and most still worked counter shifts when they weren’t making ice cream.

They’d chat for a minute if she was in a rush (he never seemed to be), but if she had time, she’d sit at the counter by the window. Nick would lean over the counter and talk to her for as long as she stayed. About anything, everything, nothing. When she left the longer chats, she'd feel fizzy. He'd later tell her had had, as well, but she could never tell. She wondered if there might be something, he wondered, too, but she could never tell. It was weeks of conversation before Nick or Jennifer realized it was something. And weeks more before either of them did anything about it.